Nova
by Ted Sadler
Summary: Trust is the basis of any long term relationship. Who do you trust, Sam? Should I trust you?
1. Sleeping Dogs

Nova

By Ted Sadler

© 2005

All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Prologue

The clear night sky, for those city-dwellers who care to look regularly, is occasionally enhanced by 'streamers' of gold and green and yellow light, sometimes tinged with red. It's breathtakingly beautiful.

It's also a sign of the awesome forces at play whenever our Sun shows even a slight variation in the steadiness of its energy output that provides us all with life on Earth. The steadiness that we take for granted, and which allows us to regard the trivia of life as being somehow important. What fools we are.

Chapter 1 – Sleeping Dogs Should Be Left Lying

"Hello, Sam."

Surprise. Embarrassment. And, she couldn't deny it, a small feeling of excitement at the sound.

She turned to face the direction of the voice, recognising its owner through the hubbub of noise in the shopping mall before she caught sight of him.

"Pete!"

A mutual pause was followed by the simultaneous utterance of "How are you?" and the inevitable light laughter.

"Don't get up." he said quickly, moving towards the small coffee shop table where Sam had been engrossed in the latest copy of 'Journal of Astrophysics' over a large Cappuccino. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not." she smiled back at him, her innate sense of decorum and good manners preventing any other response.

As he took his seat, Pete Shanahan gestured at the waitress across the way, who immediately recognised and acknowledged his request for a second cup to arrive in double-quick time.

"Part of the cover story?" he enquired politely, nodding towards her magazine. "You don't really still go for that stuff out of work hours, do you?"

His question caused a brief frown of puzzlement until she remembered that she had kept certain aspects of her lifestyle from him during the year that they had been together. Misguidedly, she understood now, she had believed that her own idiosyncrasies should not be brought into the 'perfect' lifestyle that had been, for her, the object of their relationship. He'd been so keen that everything they did should be a shared enthusiasm that it had taken her several months to realise that she had been holding back on some of the things that she really enjoyed – like immersing herself in science journals – and feigning interest in the things that he liked, such as trashy action movies and dining in fast food chains. The thought occurred that maybe her almost total acquiescence to his ideas had encouraged him towards taking autonomous decisions, leading to the fateful one – the step too far, or the wake-up call perhaps – of buying 'their' house without involving her.

Not knowing how to reply, she just shrugged and smiled. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were…… You know, transferring back to Denver."

"Takes time, Sam." he replied. "Plus I got involved in a few heavy cases in this part of the State. But by the end of this month, yeah, I'll be packing for the last time." He looked earnestly into her eyes. "Despite what happened to us at the end, Sam, I'm glad I came to The Springs."

Not knowing how to respond, she looked sharply downwards, and he cursed himself for his poor timing. He'd spent over a week trailing her around to be sure enough that she'd likely be stopping alone for coffee in this Mall today, and he had planned the perfect conversation to lead up to her inevitable agreement to going out with him again. And here, he'd blown it in less than two minutes. He decided on the spur of the moment to take another tack altogether.

"Oh my, look at the time! I didn't realise. I'm still on duty." he gushed, glancing at his watch. "Look, Sam. We probably won't meet again after today, but maybe you'd like to join me and a few friends for a drink this evening? One last time? Oh, please say you will! Eight o'clock at the El Dorado?"

"I'm not sure, Pete." Sam started to say, as nervous as she had been for some while.

"Please, Sam." he responded, a slight throb in his voice. "One last time? I won't get all gooey on you, I promise."

She sighed. "All right then. Twenty hundred. But I can't stay late."

Did she want to do this or not? Jack was in her life now in almost every respect. Almost….. He was still holding back on the one intimate part of their lives that enabled them to honestly say that they had not crossed the line of broken Air Force regulations. Only a few weeks to go before he left the chain of command and even that obstacle would be gone too. So, 'Don't Go' was sensible, but some part of her, driven on by the warm memories of passionate moments in her early days with Pete, coupled with her genuine regret at hurting him so much, stopped her from feeling entirely sensible. Sam watched Pete throw a couple of dollar bills onto the table and apologise to the waitress with a shrug of the shoulders as she approached with his coffee.

"Later, Sam!" he called as he walked quickly away, delving into his pocket for his cell phone. He speed-dialled his voice mail, knowing that there were probably no new messages since he had checked twenty minutes previously, but hoping that it gave the impression of genuine urgency.

Sam accepted the second cup from the waitress and glanced down at her magazine again, but the words didn't shout at her like before. Musing, it now occurred to her that Jack, by contrast, didn't mind her doing the things that she liked when they were together, and didn't seriously expect her to be mad about his interests either. The fact that she did enjoy some of them – his telescope, his pottery making, his music and his passion for ice hockey – was not at all forced on her part. Even the fishing was relaxing up to a point.

But Jack would never find out about tonight, would he? The slight feeling of guilt only added to her reluctant excitement.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Having showered and dressed for her evening out, Sam picked her cell phone off the dresser and saw the telltale 'text message waiting' marker. Confusion and alarm added to the tension that she was already building and she sat down on the bed after reading the few words.

'Meeting cancelled. Can be home late or fly tomorrow. Up to you. J'

After several minutes, the war of words in her head began to subside. Yes, Jack was the future, the reliable, always-be-there-for-you future that she wanted. But Pete had been devastated when she had called off their wedding and she couldn't bring herself to hurt him yet again by not turning up for the last time. It wasn't as if she was going to be alone with him at the bar. He said he'd be with friends, so it wasn't really cheating on Jack, was it? No, not a date at all.

In a rush before she lost her nerve, she keyed in a quick reply and pressed 'send'. The words 'Working late. See you tomorrow. Love S' disappeared into the ether and changed her life forever.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

El Dorado's was moderately crowded but Sam soon spied her ex-fiancé across the room talking and laughing with a couple of his buddies whom she remembered from the Police Department. They all recognised her too as she walked across to join them, and fell into light chatter about being busy with case loads and lack of resources. Pete was in a surprisingly light mood as well, thought Sam, relieved that he wasn't drowning his sorrows or trying to cry on her shoulder. Or worst of all, hitting on her.

"Hey Freddie," he said to his pal, "how come you ain't been acting like a paparazzi all evening?" He turned to Sam to explain. "He's got a new toy, haven't you, Freddie? Come on, let's get it over with so we can enjoy the rest of the evening. I tell you, Sam, there's nothing he hasn't taken a picture of yet. Drives us mad down at the Precinct."

Freddie grinned and produced his shiny new all-singing, all-seeing, all-dancing cell phone from his pocket. "Takes pictures, shows videos and records sounds. Even makes phone calls too!" he joked. Sam laughed, remembering how Jack had bought one for Cassie a few weeks ago. Inevitably, he got one for himself as well (Cassie had more persuasive abilities with him than anyone, including Sam) and had been similarly obsessed with it for a while, the two of them constantly exchanging multimedia messages.

"So, make with the pics and let's move on, then!" laughed Pete, putting on a silly face for the camera. He clowned around for a couple of shots and then said. "Sam, how about one of us, just something for me to remember, OK?" And without waiting, he put his arm around her waist and turned her towards the camera. As Sam looked up at Freddie and tried to compose a smile, Pete rapidly leaned across and kissed her cheek, just as the flash erupted.

Annoyed at the sudden turn of events, she pushed him away and just stopped herself from uttering a swear word when she saw that he was, in fact, still laughing and making faces at the camera. Perhaps she was over-reacting, she thought, but was quite determined that no more intimate moments would be happening. That was so not the direction she wanted the rest of the evening to go.

Another round of drinks and the camera forgotten, more of Pete's police colleagues drifted by, the conversations moved on and around to the trivia of life, interspersed in the background with flash photographs of all and sundry. But before she realised, the others had suddenly disappeared and she found herself alone with Pete, the pair of them sitting on high stools next to a small shelf on which their drinks rested. Their conversation had come to a standstill, and she found that she didn't know how to bring their last evening to a comfortable end, except that she was determined to get it over and done with before too long.

Pete suddenly reached into his pocket and held a small glittering object out. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the engagement ring she had given back to him weeks before.

"Pete…." she started in a warning tone, but he interrupted.

"I'd like you to keep this, Sam. I can't bear to hold on to it or sell it. All I know was that being with you was the time of my life, and I do know that you didn't….. don't feel the same any more. Please, Sam."

"No, Pete!" she said firmly, pushing his outstretched hand away. And damn Freddie for recording the scene as he moved through the bar!

She stood and picked her coat off the back of the stool. "Look, it was good to see you, but this is definitely it, Pete. We're not going to start talking about getting back together, because it isn't going to happen." She stood back and looked hard at him, and he shifted uneasily in her glare. "I'm sorry, Pete. This is Goodbye." Sam added as she walked off, not looking back.

Shanahan watched her walk out the door, and then glanced across at Freddie, who looked back at him and nodded his head. Pete smiled and sighed. "We'll see about that, Sam. We'll see what Mr. Wonderful has to say about that."

XXXXXXXXXXXX


	2. Ice

Chapter 2 – Ice

Even though the memories of the previous evening strayed occasionally into her thoughts, Sam was, as usual, sufficiently absorbed in her work at the SGC and professional enough to give full attention to her duties the next day. It wasn't until she arrived home in mid evening and clicked on her telephone answering machine – a routine action whenever she saw the pulsating green light – that the pleasant expectation of hearing Jack's voice was replaced by nerve-tingling shock.

'Messages: 1' the digital window showed, and Cassie's voice started in a tone of unmistakable disgust.

"Sam, I don't think I'll understand in a million years why you've gone back that creep! I suppose it's your choice, OK? But what a shitty way to treat Jack! He didn't even know about it when I called. He didn't believe it either until I sent him the pictures. Sure, he clammed up straight away like he always does – like he did before when you jumped into bed with the schmuck the first time! Well, I don't want to come home to you and the creepy pig ever again! Next time I'm home from college, I'm moving my stuff to Jack's. He'll be OK with that."

Cassie had paused in her tirade at this point before the recording resumed in a more level tone of voice. "Look, Sam, I love you and I appreciate you looking after me lately, but I can't live with this. Jack's always been there for me. I know he helped mom out a few times when things were rough and she couldn't afford to do everything she wanted for me."

Sam stared at the phone at this revelation, but immediately put it to the back of her mind as the voice continued.

"He's the best dad that I could wish for. I won't let him down!"

The line went silent and the word 'Delete?' in the little phone window remained unanswered. Sam slumped onto the adjacent sofa, one arm still in her jacket. The constant ringing noise in her ears, a sudden constriction of her throat and a feeling of instant nausea overtook and overwhelmed her. After a few minutes, intense anger began to supplant the other sensations. When that had subsided after half an hour or so, she was more than ready to start fighting back.

She knew Jack well enough not to expect him to answer his cell phone under these circumstances if he saw her number, and she was ready to deliver her message. "Jack! This isn't what you think! Please call me. I can explain." A small pause before she added "I love you, and only you." and signed off.

Cassie's would also be a difficult call. "Cass, I know you're monitoring this, so please pick up. I've been set up and I'm not going back to Pete. I don't know why he's done this…." Actually, she did know, but this wasn't the time. "Look, so you're not speaking to me. I understand that. E-mail the pictures to me straight away so that I can deal with the situation. Just do that for me, please? If you still want to move out after this, that's OK by me. It's not what I want, but I won't stand in your way if you and Jack are agreed on things. I'll talk to you later when I've managed to clear a few things up. Please, do this for me if you want to help Jack. Send the e-mail."

She was quite prepared to call Cassie again if the photos were not forthcoming, but to her relief, her home PC's e-mail box announced their arrival a few minutes later. She was not surprised to see that Cassie had made no comments in her message, but had merely sent the files as attachments. There would be time enough later to deal with her young friend – provided of course, that she could stop Jack from walking out of her life in the meantime. She had hoped that maybe the resolution of the pictures would not be high enough from a phone camera, and that she and her erstwhile boyfriend might not be completely recognisable, but no such luck. Technology in this area was advancing faster than even she realised. The date and time stamps in the corner of each picture showed quite clearly exactly when she was being kissed and subsequently – if the photo were to be interpreted that way – of being proposed to again. Most of all, it was clear who was doing the kissing and proposing.

Her next call was to the Police Department, and it took an effort of will to keep the icy edge from her voice. "Good evening, officer. I'm Colonel Sam Carter, US Air Force. Can you please tell me if Detective Freddie Marquette is on duty this evening and connect me if possible? Thank you."

She waited while the PD's phone system played the Country song 'Stand by Your Man', wincing at the irony. Eventually it stopped. "Freddie! This is Sam Carter. I just wanted you to know that you surely are one great photographer. Your work deserves to be hung, and frankly, Freddie, so do you. Now listen, if you don't want to get involved in all that messy paperwork that surrounds an IAB investigation into officers involved in allegations of blackmail and extortion, how about you tell me where Pete is this evening and meet me there? And Freddie, one word to Pete beforehand, the deal's off and the paperwork starts . OK, I'm glad we're seeing eye-to-eye on this. Oh, and make sure your battery's charged. Don't want to miss a scoop, do you?"

Her earlier despair had now been firmly replaced by the thrill of anticipation that always accompanies action to take back control of a situation. She had experienced it often enough in her military career, and now it was time to drive her personal life with the same vigour.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Detective Frederick Marquette had never understood how Pete Shanahan had firstly won and then was stupid enough to lose Sam Carter's affections. He stood in open admiration as she dismounted her motor cycle in the car park, shook her hair loose after removing her gloves and crash helmet, and his heart raced slightly as she lowered the zipper of her leather jacket just a few inches as she walked towards him. The black leather pants and steel-tipped riding boots completed his fantasy.

"Thanks, Freddie." Sam smiled at him, and he was now her willing slave. "And just to be clear, you aren't here, and never were tonight."

"Sure thing, Sam." he breathed. "After you." He followed her into the bar-restaurant.

"I'm sorry, sir, ma'am, but we're not taking dinner orders any more this evening." the barman said apologetically as the two newcomers approached.

"That's OK. We're here to talk to one of your diners." explained Freddie. "He's the fair-haired one over there in the far corner with that lady." he added, gesturing towards the larger room at the back.

"I'll call his attention right now, officer." replied the barman, recognising Freddie's profession immediately to be the same as the man they were asking for. The blond dominatrix had him puzzled, though, until he remembered that guys who worked together had often organised 'birthday surprises' for one another. Maybe this was one of those, and he smiled in anticipation.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack O'Neill stared from the window of his unlit Washington apartment at yet another night of a spectacular Aurora display bright enough to overcome the city's light pollution. He stared, and yet he did not see. He hadn't moved from this position for around half an hour, and would have stayed rooted there ignoring the phone's insistent ring had not the serious tones of his Commander-in-Chief's assistant cut in.

His black mood as a result of this evening's events was shattered by the obvious urgency in the voice. "General, this is John Severinski, aide to President Hayes. We're sending a limo for you right now. Please be ready to attend an emergency briefing. Pack some clothes as you may not be returning home tonight or in the near future."

Jack picked up the phone and confirmed his acceptance briefly, allowing the aide to hang up in order to continue his round of calls. This was not the first time in his life to have his dearest hopes shattered, although nothing would ever equal the pain of his son's death – but it still hurt. He knew that preparing for impending action was probably the best short-term remedy, and threw himself into motion.

In the back of the limousine, he switched on his cell phone and saw '1 Missed Call'. When he checked the originating number, he debated whether to listen or not, but finally gave in and sat back in amazement at Sam's recorded words. The last part, 'I love you, and only you.' had him totally confused. Still hurt and angry, but definitely confused. Maybe there was an explanation to be made concerning the photos, but Sam had told him that she was working late, and that particular lie had hurt him just as much as any supposed infidelities.

As the car sped through nearly-empty streets towards The White House, the driver – well-used to such emergencies – ignored the speed limits as usual. Jack drew on his long experience and training to force himself into a state of calm to prepare for the briefing.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

In the early hours of the morning, through the fire in his head Pete Shanahan was trying to recall the exact moment when he had realised that his strategy for alienating Sam from General O'Neill and stepping back into her life was not working. Had it been when she had grabbed his right earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, instead of embracing him as he had expected in the bar? With only moderate pressure applied, he had experienced a sensation of pain like no other before, even when he had been shot, and had sunk to his knees in agony. It had even hurt too much to scream. Her gentle questioning ("Why, Pete?") had amused the barman, who admitted afterwards that he thought she had been hired to surprise him ("Your friend said that you got off on humiliation.") and had wanted her to leave a card behind the bar for future bachelor parties.

Or perhaps it had been when she had delivered a right cross to his left eye only seconds after letting go of his ear, sending him sprawling across the floor. Just moments later he could only see out of his right, the bright flashes of Freddie's camera-phone irritating him immensely. His gentle girlfriend had hit him harder than he would ever have believed, showing her unarmed combat skills to the utmost in the calm way she had almost effortlessly delivered the blow.

One thing was certain, though. When he had recovered enough to threaten Freddie if he didn't delete the photos, only to be told that Sam had given him two hundred dollars to buy a new phone and had walked away with it, leaving only the SIM card, he at last knew that it was over.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Of all the coincidences she would have wished to avoid, next morning's descent in the SGC elevator with Jack as the only other occupant was the one. But here he was, studiously ignoring her in sullen silence, refusing to defrost the icy atmosphere.

She looked round quickly at him and then away again. His bloodshot eyes were the familiar ones she had seen before when he couldn't sleep or hadn't had the opportunity. "Sir,…." she began when she could bear the tension no longer.

"Not humming this morning, Colonel?" he asked, the sarcasm just dripping from his words. "What's his name? Ah, deja vu! It's Pete, of course."

"Jack, I can explain!" she retorted in a low voice.

He sighed and looked back at her. His demeanour openly changed to one of defeat and resignation. "No need, Sam. I put personal pressure on you at a time when you were grieving for your father, and for that I'm truly sorry. It would never have worked anyway. You must live the life you want, when you want and with whoever the lucky person is. If it's Pete, well then….."

Sam couldn't believe what she was hearing. "No!" she started to explain, but the sudden lurch of arrival at their floor and the opening of the doors to reveal others waiting to enter terminated her conversation.

"I'm holding a special briefing for SG Team leaders with General Landry at 08:30 hours." Jack announced as he set off down the corridor. "I'll see you there, Colonel."

Sam hurried to her office and slammed the door behind her, deterring a clerk from delivering her post until much later. She sat at her desk, fuming silently for a while before suddenly slamming both fists onto the desk top, with gathering thoughts of how to hijack this self-effacing idiot and put him straight after the meeting.

How could she have known that Jack would be setting the stage for events that would affect everyone on Earth, least of all themselves?

XXXXXXXXXXXX


	3. Solar Wind

Chapter 3 – Solar Wind

The buzz of speculation in the conference room ended abruptly when the two Generals entered, their subordinates springing to attention in the usual way.

"At ease!" commanded Hank Landry, taking the vacant seat at the side, leaving Jack to pull up the senior officer's chair at the head of the table. "Please be seated." He looked over at the Master Sergeant by the door and added, "Seal the room, please, and post a guard outside. No disturbances until we leave."

"Sir!" replied the veteran NCO, smartly closing the door behind him as he walked out.

"General O'Neill has come straight here from The White House to brief us." Landry continued. "Please listen closely – this is not, I repeat NOT a drill. It may be the most serious situation that you or any of us will ever have faced. General?"

While the SGC Commander had been speaking, Jack had taken his laptop computer from his briefcase and connected it to the projector on the table top. Sam resisted the urge to reach across and help him when he didn't quite manage to connect the blue plug to the monitor port the first time, and their eyes met in the briefest of glances before he became professionalism itself once more. Everyone turned to face the screen on the wall as he pressed the 'Function – f8' keys to transfer the picture from the computer LCD to the large screen at the end of the room.

Expressions of puzzlement greeted the first image. It was a still frame of a football game being held in what looked like a snowstorm.

"Anyone see the Packers or Vikings play yesterday?" asked Jack. "Anyone who says 'yes', you're lying. They got pulled from the schedules because this was typical of the best pictures the Sports network could get." He depressed a key and another image appeared of greenish clouds above a night-time city skyline.

"This was the night sky over Washington DC last night. Same thing could be seen over much of the northern States. Anyone care to comment?"

This was Sam's forte. "It's the Aurora Borealis, Sir. But it's rarely, if ever, seen this far south with that degree of brightness." she explained, wondering at the same time why she hadn't been more attentive to the night skies herself recently.

"Absolutely correct, Colonel." replied Jack. "You just booked yourself onto a transport that's leaving for Ryan Field, Arizona shortly after this meeting ends. The Kitt Peak Solar Observatory will brief you on their findings and theories. The objective of that briefing will enable you on your return to advise the strategy team that will be formed here in this morning. Your background in astrophysics and expertise should allow you to attribute probability factors to the different outcomes of what may be about to happen."

The team leaders who knew Jack well saw in his expression, despite the tell-tale red-eyed tiredness of someone who hadn't slept for more than a day, an intensity of purpose he rarely displayed in public, and paid all the more attention. He quickly looked at the faces around the room in turn, sparing only a moment for each, recognising that they understood his urgency as he continued.

"I could also talk about other recent phenomena you've seen in the news – complaints about poor signals on cell phones, lousy TV pictures and interrupted live broadcasts, and maybe also the record number of intense storms and extreme weather conditions around the world lately." He paused briefly.

"The National Security Advisory Committee has received submissions from a small number of scientists who are concerned that we – and by that I mean all countries, not just the USA – could be at risk. It seems that the heat and radiation we get from the Sun has been less steady than usual over the past few months. Such things have happened before, but there is a worry that this might also be the onset of worse to come with extreme detrimental effects on climate, agriculture and the general health of humanity. Now I know that Carter and Hailey and some others among you can explain this in more accurate detail than I can, but I think you get the picture. The NSAC doesn't want to be spreading alarm and panic in the population at large, and so they're shepherding the geeks for now and keeping them away from Joe public until the degree of risk can be assessed properly. However, there is a time limit for silence and denial as so many amateur and professional astronomers around the world will soon pick up the evidence for themselves."

A soft murmur ran around the room but quickly ceased, and Jack moved on. He put up the next slide. The bold words 'Operation Chevron' appeared against the background of the SGC logo, with 'Top Secret' in slightly smaller print underneath.

"A number of task forces have been formed to explore potential scenarios, ranging from mild economic and social consequences, through more serious effects of climate change, to the ultimate disaster beloved of Hollywood movie producers. The SGC has been tasked with preparing for the worst of all possible scenarios." Jack stated solemnly. "Our objective for this operation is to plan and prepare for a mass evacuation of the Earth. This will include, where feasible, making ready other planets for receiving large numbers of refugees. We will also study, as far as is possible, crowd logistics both within the SGC and in the immediate vicinity of Cheyenne Mountain."

Colonel Griff raised his hand, interrupting the stasis of shock that sat on so many shoulders at that point.

"Yes, Griff?" asked Jack, knowing that many questions were inevitable.

"Sir, how are we going to stop the men and women of the SGC from telling this news to their families and close friends? Top security or not, human nature means a high probability of this situation leaking out faster than we could control it!"

Heads nodded around the room in agreement.

"That thought has occurred to the NSAC." replied Jack. He took a deep breath. "The decision has therefore been taken that firstly, all leave for SGC personnel is hereby cancelled indefinitely, effective as of now. Secondly, as a priority our Alpha, Beta and Gamma sites will be augmented and fitted out to accommodate the staff and all their families. People are used to military families being moved at short notice. Sure, the families themselves will be confused, scared and overwhelmed at first, but if they're out of harm's way, it's the only way that we can get our staff to concentrate on the job in hand, knowing that they're safe. It is recognised that the secret of the Stargate's existence will probably become public if the threat to Earth turns out to be non-permanent and a safe return can be effected, but that's considered a manageable item in the overall scheme of things."

Jack looked around and his gaze settled briefly on the water jug and drinking glasses in the centre of the table. Without hesitation, Sam knew what he wanted, reached across and poured it for him, for which he nodded his thanks.

"All physical exploration of new Stargate addresses is also terminated until further notice, unless the planets look from the initial telemetry like they can receive reasonable numbers of people and sustain life." said Jack. He looked over at Major Reynolds, current head of one of the diplomatic teams. "Reynolds, your role is being expanded to head teams of negotiators who will make contact with all the current planets we know of populated by friendly races. By 'friendly', that means any we might think would be amenable to allowing numbers of refugees on board without resorting to armed conflict."

"We'll need to induct new staff into the SGC, Sir." Reynolds stated evenly. "I can think of quite a few possible havens for evacuees, but it will take a long time in some cases to conduct negotiations with the locals. I reckon maybe twenty or thirty new people might be needed."

"Do it." said Jack. "General Landry can assist you in trawling the Diplomatic Corps or the ranks of industry, or whatever you need to get them on board soonest." Landry nodded his affirmation.

"What about a call to the Asgard?" asked Colonel Ferretti. "The little buggers might be able to zap the whole population to somewhere safe."

"They might." Jack responded. "But we all know that they're not at our beck and call, and whether they could or would handle a request like that is unknown. Attempts will be made to contact them, but we shouldn't count on it."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The meeting broke up after two hours, with each of the twenty three officers assigned agreed tasks and sworn to strict secrecy. Sam was on her way out of the room behind the others when Jack called over.

"Colonel Carter! A word, please before you leave for Arizona."

"Sir?" she enquired, moving back to face him. She knew that Jack never mixed serious business with personal matters, and was not disappointed.

"Here's a copy of the initial report from the people running the McMath-Pierce solar telescope at Kitt Peak." Jack explained, holding out a beige folder. "Check it out, Carter. I have a feeling that we're going to be doing this thing for real one day."

"Based on?" she asked, raising her eyebrow, Teal'c-fashion.

"Honkin' big mass coronal ejections, Colonel. Just like that P-whatever time loop planet we went to." sighed Jack, causing as usual a smile on her face with his vernacular science terms. "If they're right, we've been lucky that, by the greatest good fortune, they've been flung into space from the Sun away from the Earth and not directly towards us so far. But don't pre-judge the issue. Report back here tonight for the next team leader briefing at 22:00 hours. Good luck."

"Thank you, Sir." she replied crisply, moving away. She couldn't resist glancing back at him as she reached the door, but only saw to her consternation his tired expression as he closed down his laptop computer. Their mutual feelings were on hold once again, but this time she was determined not to let things slide as soon as the right moment came. If it wasn't already too late, of course.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam had completed her presentation in the Lear Jet that flew her back from Arizona, and now held the floor at the late-night meeting. Normally, her natural enthusiasm for all things scientific carried her through internal briefings without much regard for the style of presentation, but this was different. This was both universal and personal for everyone she knew and cared for, and she began with carefully-chosen words.

"This morning I left here, like we all did, hoping and expecting that the threat of solar instability was a small one. After all, the Sun is an M Class star that, like most of its kind throughout the universe, has been sufficiently stable to provide the conditions for development of life on Earth and to sustain our environment."

She pressed the remote control button in her hand to start a video clip of the Sun on the projector screen. Not the blindingly bright yellow sphere that we see with the naked eye, but a filtered image to uncover a much darker sphere showing in crystal clear detail the fiery turbulence of its being. Dark blotches swam around the surface, while orange and yellow plumes seemed to be boiling away into space. Occasionally larger emanations spewed forth, sometimes dissipating into the blackness of space, and sometimes following a circular arc outwards and then back into the star.

"This is what the Sun looks like most of the time." Sam continued. "Violent, yes, but within limits that keep us all alive. Here's a comparison showing the Earth to the same scale." She pressed the control again and a blue dot appeared, dwarfed by the elements around it. The film finished and another video clip started at her behest.

"This is a time-compressed collage of solar activity over the last 6 months. It doesn't look much different, does it? But just watch closely here."

Everyone strained to follow the events on screen. A faint glow appeared as a halo around the Sun's circumference, quickly fading.

"Watch again." commanded Sam as events moved on. Twice more the transient halo was visible before Sam stopped the movie.

"That was an intense Solar flare, bordering on what we call a 'Mass Coronal Ejection'. It has happened four or five times over the last six months, but on each occasion we have had the great good fortune that it was directed away from the Earth from the far side of the Sun." A slide showing a graph appeared, recognisable immediately to the astronomers present as the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram, and Sam moved on without hesitation.

"The Sun burns steadily by converting hydrogen into helium in a nuclear reaction. Most of you know this. This long central part of the graph shows where most stars spend their lifetimes, doing just this, slowly and calmly." She illuminated the relevant area on the screen with her laser pointer.

"However, when nearly all the hydrogen is gone, dramatic changes start to occur. The heat and outward pressure of the nuclear reaction no longer matches the inward force of gravity, and the star starts to collapse into itself, becoming hotter in the process and starting a second series of nuclear reactions, turning the helium into heavier elements. The result is often an immense explosion – a nova – throwing most of the star's matter into space and frying any planets in the vicinity." Her pointer moved to the lower part of the graph. "Stars move out of the steady 'Main Sequence' and end their lives either as interstellar gas, or collapse back to a cooling super-dense ball. Either way, no life is sustainable on any orbiting planets."

"But doesn't that process take millions of years?" asked Colonel Dixon. "Why should we worry this time?"

"Good question." Sam replied. "Yes, it does take millions of years. But the onset of the end of a star's life is marked by occasional unstable episodes. There is also a telltale. Small quantities of the higher atomic elements, like iron and carbon for example, start to be formed from the helium long before all the hydrogen is gone. Today I had the scientists at Kitt Peak run detailed spectral analyses of records taken over the last few years. They show very faint traces of these elements in the heliosphere during the outbursts of the last few months. In other words, there is a reasonable chance that the Sun is entering a period of instability like no other in recorded history. We cannot predict whether this would affect us within days, weeks, months, years or generations. It would however seem the right thing to do to take sensible precautions. We probably have the time to plan ahead and not to rush into a situation that would panic society. On the other hand, to do nothing and pretend everything is normal would be foolhardy."

"Sounds like a typical political solution." murmured an anonymous voice, bringing nervous laughs from a few.

"In any event, there are some measures that should be taken immediately." Sam continued. "The interference to radio will become a regular topic of conversation. It's annoying for TV programs and cell phone conversations, but it can have major impacts on air traffic navigation and comms generally. It would also be advisable to de-man the International Space Station until additional radiation shielding can be installed. It's going to be difficult to hide things like that from the public."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam felt exhausted when the meeting broke up around midnight. She returned to her quarters but knew she wouldn't sleep straight away, and decided to sneak a snack from the vending machine in the commissary. To her surprise, Jack was sitting alone at a corner table nursing a coffee. He looked up and smiled through tired eyes as the machine disgorged a chocolate bar with its familiar 'clunk'.

Sam recalled the determination she had felt yesterday, before the world turned upside down. Without hesitation she walked over and pulled out the chair opposite, raising her eyebrow as if to ask, and yet to tell him at the same time, that she was joining him. Jack smiled fleetingly again.

"Nice presentation, Carter." he grunted. "You may be needed in Washington to make the point more clearly than I can."

"It'll be a pleasure, Sir." she smiled back, unwrapping the bar and offering him a piece, which he gratefully accepted.

Noting that they were alone, she said in a low voice. "I'm so sorry that I lied to you, Jack." He looked sharply up at her. "Pete wanted me to join him for a farewell drink with his buddies and I didn't have the heart to say 'no'. I didn't know he'd planned to have us photographed, and I've rectified that situation."

"Sam," sighed Jack, "you don't have to…… What the hell?" His eyes had just alighted on the screen of the cell phone that she was holding out to him. A black-clad arm swung quickly in a blurred arc across the picture, a fist connected with a skull with a satisfying smacking sound, a cry of "Jesus, Sam!" was heard and a familiar face impacted the floor. Jack's tiredness disappeared.

"Carpe diem." Sam said calmly. "Which leaves just one other matter, Jack."

"Oh?"

"Whatever happens to us all, you and I are not going to continue like we have in the past."

She decided to get to the point quickly, so as to deter his well-known ability to get the wrong end of the stick insofar as their personal situation was concerned.

"Book a date, Jack. We're getting married."

She tensed as no apparent reaction appeared on his face. But then, a slow grin, causing her to exhale in relief.

XXXXXXXXXXXX


	4. Heat

Chapter 4 – Heat and Wind

In southern Siberia, two farm labourers were more glad than usual that the working day was coming to an end. Repairing stone walls was heavy work in any weather, let alone in an unexpected, unseasonable heat wave. The tractor was parked in the barn for the night, and its cooling engine made metallic clinking noises in the still air as the metal started to contract.

"I tell you, Gregor, that this is not natural. Not natural at all." sighed Anton as he mopped his brow with the back of his forearm before replacing his cap. His friend merely grunted in reply, but silently was in full agreement.

"I thought that last week's snow really was the end of the good weather for the year." Anton continued. "But just look at it now! All around us first thing this morning and nearly all gone by this afternoon! And how quickly it got warm when the clouds disappeared. I tell you, it's not natural!"

"So you keep saying." responded his companion. "You're right, though." He wrinkled his nose. "You sweat like a pig in this heat. Marishka won't come near you tonight if you don't clean up first."

"You're no flower garden either!" retorted Anton. "You'd best bathe as well if you want her sister to notice you in the right way. Your really caught some sunburn as well. That sun was so bright this afternoon. I tell you, it's……"

"Not natural. Yes, yes. I agree with you. Now just change the subject!" Gregor said testily as they trudged down the hill to their respective farm cottages.

"All right." Anton paused. " Hey! Old Nicolai was down in Novosibirsk yesterday. Went to see his cousin. He said there's some sort of fuss going on. Lots of political 'apparatchiki' were in town. Quite a few military as well. His cousin's taxi service hasn't had so much business in years ferrying them to Tolmachevo airport. Travelling with their families or mistresses, too, he said. Lots of suitcases. Lots of Western aeroplanes landing and taking off." His face broke into a wry smile. "The old Ilyushins not good enough for them apparently. Oh no! Got to fly in bloody big 'Amerikanski' Boeings or 'Angliski' Airbuses. Stuck-up bastards!"

"Did they say where they were going?" asked Gregor.

"Niet. Some said 'conference' and some said 'holidays', but nobody said where." Anton spat as he continued walking. "Good riddance, I say." He idly scratched the reddened skin on his forearm, but stopped when it began to sting as he rubbed it.

"The frost will damage all the buds that are coming out when it comes back." said Gregor. "Imagine that! Buds on trees in November." He just managed to stop himself commenting on how unnatural it was.

At four o'clock in the morning, his lover Marishka awoke to the sound of Anton's grunts and groans, to find him sitting on the side of the bed. She reached over and switched on the bedside light, and gasped in horror at the blisters covering his face and arms. By the time they approached the doctor's house in nearby Mocisce in the dark, the number of people they saw similarly afflicted was of no comfort at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Leni, I'm telling you, this is 'not' a fault with the equipment!" shouted Chief Controller Lars Berensen down the telephone line. "There's not an ATC centre east of Helsinki that can see a goddamned thing on their long-range radar!" He closed his eyes in exasperation and stopped listening to the equally irate voice at the other end of the line. He decided that enough was enough.

"Listen! Listen, Leni! We've got over twenty intermittent targets on the scope coming out of the east, originating from Russia, when we can see anything at all in the clutter. No, they're not military flights, they're airliners. Some are circling and descending near Stockholm, and my guess is that they made visual ID of Arlanda airport, because there's only occasional radio contact through all this static. Every domestic flight was grounded hours ago and all the European fly-overs are accounted for or still on the ground in neighbouring countries. Those Russkis that aren't circling are heading mostly westwards, but that's probably not where they want to be going right now. We've had reports that there's a phenomenal easterly jet stream at altitudes over ten thousand metres – maybe over two hundred and fifty knots! Greenland is reporting the same thing but from the north-east. They are badly off course and probably don't have enough fuel for a transatlantic crossing from here. The wind's getting up to strong gusts at lower altitudes and some runways will have to be closed soon if it keeps getting up like this."

He paused to listen to his colleague's reluctant acceptance of what he was being told.

"OK, OK. That's right, Leni! Get every major airport to shine searchlights into the air, and all runway lights on. Make ready for visual landings. They won't be able to talk through all this background slush anyway. Any airport you can't make telephone contact with, use couriers from where you can communicate with – anything at all!"

By the time dawn broke, all but three airliners were on the ground somewhere in Scandinavia. Russian officials of varying rank and discipline were involved in negotiating or demanding fuel for immediate take-off, which was being refused because of the bad weather and the fact that few nav aids appeared to be working satisfactorily. Radar screens were full of electric 'snow': GPS instruments displayed messages in various languages to the effect that they did not know where they were. Even magnetic compasses were oscillating uncertainly. Why there was such urgency or desperation for the Russians to get away was a mystery to the Swedish and Norwegian authorities.

The three missing planes were – missing. With no flight plans filed and unable to communicate before ditching in the North Atlantic, no-one knew of their fate until the next day. It is said that drowning is a pleasant sensation after the initial panic, but no-one was in a position to offer confirmation.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

General Landry had Sergeant Harriman call the SGC Crisis Team together as soon as the news reports began to filter in to Cheyenne Mountain.

" Here is a summary of what we know so far." he began, "At around 11:00 GMT yesterday, there was a Solar event causing massive irradiation to the daylight side of the Earth. That's the time when NORAD's global network went down. Radio and TV communication is impossible except within an approximate one thousand kilometre radius of this location. GPS is out. Telephone landline traffic is possible but intermittent: the networks are overloaded. Only a handful of internet sites are still operable and lines are jammed full of people trying to use it. International air traffic was grounded last night and domestic flights first thing this morning."

He paused to let the words sink in to the eight military officers and civilian specialists gathered around the table: the other twenty five members were currently off-world.

"We estimate that around two thirds of the hundreds of communication satellites in orbit are now non-functioning, probably permanently. The International Space Station conducted an emergency evacuation and the Soyuz capsule with the crew is believed to be safely down somewhere in the Caucasus, but exact location unknown. Before they left orbit, they managed to report a huge cloud clearance over the daylight side of Earth, followed hours later by the development of enormous anticyclonic weather patterns over the southern hemisphere, stretching way northwards. The brunt of the solar outburst was borne by India and Eastern Africa, where the Sun was near overhead during the worst of it. Casualties are unknown at present but are expected to be large." He looked to his diplomatic expert. "Colonel Reynolds?"

"Today we were expecting the arrival of the first parties of officials and dependents from the five nations that have known about the Stargate: China, Russia, Canada, UK and France." said the Colonel. "The Canadians are on their way here by surface transport and will arrive tomorrow. The UK and French contingents were unable to take off from their start points. We're getting reports of Chinese transports landing in Alaska and the Aleutians. They appear to be several thousand miles off course to the North. Absent a rapid resumption of flights in the near future, they will need to arrive here by road or rail transport as well." He flicked over the page of hand-written notes. "We believe that the Russian planes were also thrown badly off course after their departures from Central Russia, and it seems a lot of them ended up in Scandinavia instead of heading out over the North Pole. What I don't understand is how they went too far west and the Chinese too far North."

"It'll be due to the weather being stirred up by the huge sudden heating effect to one side of the planet's atmosphere, Sir." Captain Hailey chimed in. "It seems as though the energy burst from the Sun didn't last more than a few hours, but disturbed the balance of the weather systems enough so that high winds and turbulent air currents were set up to even out the pressure and temperature differences between the day and night sides. Extremely windy weather with heavy rain or snow storms could last for a few days or maybe more. Radio communication should improve in time if there are no more outbursts, but with so many satellites fried it won't be up to the standards we had. In a nutshell, the planes were blown way off course and with no reliable navigation aids, ended up where they did."

"Thank you, Captain." said Landry. He turned to face the man on his left. "Colonel Mitchell? Are we ready to start receiving large numbers of ref…… er, people yet?"

"At the SGC – affirmative, Sir." replied the new commander of SG-1. "Alpha site is also in good shape, but Beta and Gamma need another few days at least. As you know some of the families and dependents we moved out there a few weeks back have been demanding to come back. Don't see the danger, don't like the accommodation, homesick children – everything you would expect, Sir. After the shock of learning about the SGC and being uprooted, some are almost to the point of civil disobedience and dealing with their demands has held up work. Those two sites are way behind schedule on establishing transit camps for large numbers of people." He looked up. "And the word 'refugees' is not too strong, Sir. That's exactly what we're facing now."

"With respect, we don't know that for sure yet." The tone of voice feigned politeness but it was only a thin veil. All eyes turned to the source of the statement: the Senate's ultra-secret S22 Committee representative Madeleine Witherspoon. Lawyer, upwardly mobile executive, distruster of the military and self-appointed Devil's Advocate to a group of people she looked down on. "There's no evidence yet that any mass evacuation will be necessary. We need more detail of what's happening in Asia. Casualty figures need to be analysed before we start major upheavals. The Sun may settle down again."

"That is true, Ms. Witherspoon." Landry replied diplomatically. "But our role is to prepare for the worst." He turned back to Mitchell. "How long before Beta and Gamma can get back on the project timeline?"

"At this point I estimate six to eight weeks." Mitchell replied in a positive tone. "But we've got to have more resources and materials. We need to draft in more teams of building construction workers. Also we need more credit to buy raw materials and pre-fabricated housing modules. We've reached our spending limits: I'm told by the Finance section that we're short approximately sixteen million dollars to complete phase one of the work."

"That's the other reason for caution." Madeleine interrupted. "You're spending tax dollars like a man with no arms." Landry ignored her, spurring Mitchell on.

"The other aspect to this situation is that new people arriving off world will show the families already out there that this is past being just a precaution, and maybe divert their efforts away from protesting about conditions." he concluded.

General Landry now faced Sergeant Siler. "Gate status, Sergeant? I understand that you're here in place of Colonel Carter."

"Yes, Sir." Siler responded. "The nuclear reactors from Norfolk Naval Shipyard arrived a few hours ago and she's been tied up with their installation most of the night. It's got to a tricky point right now and she can't leave. We hope to have them coupled into the power grid by the end of this week at the earliest. However, the generator that they'll link to is lacking vital spare parts. Estimated delivery on those is three months. It'll work for now, though."

He opened a folder and glanced at a sheet of paper. "Utility power from outside the SGC is reduced since yesterday." he continued. "We can expect more of the same. We can still dial out from the Gate, but probably only once or twice a day if the brown-outs persist. It would help if the whole Mountain could reduce power consumption in the meantime."

"I'll issue orders to that effect." Landry replied. "Colonel Reynolds, how go the negotiations with friendly planets to take refugees?" He didn't hesitate to use the 'R' word this time.

"Anything but 'friendly', I'm afraid, Sir." said Reynolds. "Only a handful has agreed to anything more than limited numbers. Others are threatening internment or worse if we attempt to send droves of people. Teal'c has gone touring the free Jaffa worlds to campaign on our behalf following their lukewarm reactions. I'll get a sitrep from him next week."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

General Landry had a way of making 'suggestions' that could only be interpreted as orders, even though they were not couched as such.

"I think it would be for the good of the program and for yourself if you actually did not report back to this base before noon tomorrow, Colonel." he had told Sam as she exited the infirmary wearing a large band-aid on the back of her left hand. She had automatically begun the reply he was expecting, but there it was – that tone of voice coupled with the line of his mouth that brooked no arguments.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you." was all she had said. Deep down she knew she was over-tired and becoming susceptible to errors. Like the gash she had just received for not moving out of the way quickly enough when the bolts securing the second submarine nuclear reactor proved difficult to tighten, for example. Next could be something more critical.

The Air Force driver's voice had awoken her from her back-seat slumber: he would call for her at 11:30 hours next day. That gave her exactly twelve hours of freedom at home to….. sleep!

But not before one more attempt to make contact with Jack in Washington. To her joy she saw the answer phone light on, and quickly pressed the button. A faint voice could be heard intermittently against a constant hiss of static, but it was almost impossible to make out anything intelligible. She knew it was 'him', though. The recording ended and she was still none the wiser about what he had said. Despite her state of exhaustion, an idea formed. She dived into her briefcase and opened her laptop, leaving it to boot up while she ran to her study. She plugged in the PC microphone she found in the desk drawer and when the machine was ready, recorded the message onto the hard disc. After ten minutes manipulation of the software, she had removed the static noise and enhanced the background voice. She clicked on the 'start' button.

"….. hit the fan here. We….. Senator….. from his elbow. Hit bad……. Tens of thousands…… When I'll be home….. Miss you, Sam…. You."

She sat back, relieved and delighted that she'd been able to listen to at least a few words from him. She tried dialling back to Jack's Washington apartment and then his office to leave a message there, but the line was nothing but electronic mush and she reluctantly gave up. Then tiredness overtook again, and she passed briefly via the bathroom to the welcoming pit of her bed.

XXXXXXXXXXXX


	5. Tempest

Chapter 5 – Tempest

"TV's back up!" cried an anonymous voice as it passed briefly by the commissary door. Immediately the man behind the cash desk reached under for the remote control and aimed it at the set high up on the end wall. Those at the far end of the room rose from their seats, moving towards it for a better view, only to be greeted by cries of "Sit down!" from those already nearer who could now no longer see the screen. Eventually everyone stood to watch the pictures and strain for the sounds.

The snow-filled screen and less-than-perfect audio was a clear sign that the week-long global weather and communications crisis was not over. They saw the red banner across the bottom of the screen that was the trademark of the news broadcaster, but couldn't read the small text marching along it. The larger letters spelling out 'Sun Storm Latest' above were plain enough, though, and the pictures – intermittent as they were – left no doubts as to the consequences of the solar outburst. Alternate scenes of snow blizzards, torrential rain and high winds throughout the Americas were followed by brief clips of similar scenes from Asia, Africa and Europe. The announcer's voice came and went, but got the message across only too well.

"Photos flown in by reporters taking incredible personal…. No satellite data is coming…."

"Land line phones in some areas across the USA are working. But the government is urging people not try to use them except in extreme…."

"Three tempestuous days and nights of wind, rain and sudden temperature changes that no-one in living memory has ever experienced to this degree."

"Trading on the NYSE is suspended. Other world stock markets are not….."

"All world trade and especially oil shipments to the USA are severely interrupted, probably for some time to come. Gas supplies are being reserved for emergency services, law enforcement, the military and essential supplies like food deliveries…. Looters will be shot on…. Brown-outs can be expected…. Sparingly."

Occasionally the picture cleared enough to show the stress on the announcer's face or the graphic details of storm damage, but several times the sound and vision disappeared completely for a few minutes at a time. The SGC staff and the people present from the Russian, Chinese and Canadian delegations who had struggled to get to Cheyenne Mountain during the previous two days looked on in horrified fascination, exchanging hushed words until the picture cleared, when they returned their attention immediately to the screen.

"Our science correspondent, Tom…."

"Light at the end of the tunnel. The worst of the storms have been dying down, and…. Expect a return to some forms of normality within a few days, including limited air travel."

"Clouds of radiation and a heat burst were thrown at the Earth by a huge storm on the Sun a week ago. Those directly exposed to the Sun storm on the daylight side of the Earth for long enough time periods will have suffered skin damage, most probably ranging from sunburn and maybe more severe soreness…. Unluckiest will, or will have already developed some degree of skin cancer. These few pictures of queues of sufferers at hospitals and aid stations across Asia, Africa and Europe…. No pictures yet from Australasia, but we can assume the same effects there."

Gasps of horror and concern arose, and not only from the foreign delegates, but died away again quickly as the TV once more clarified for a few brief moments.

"Animals and especially livestock will have suffered too. To ease the suffering of the worst-affected creatures, culling is the only practical measure. However, absent the widespread means to preserve meat for long periods, this could lead to severe shortages later."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Now's your chance, Petey boy!" said Freddie Marquette with no small amount of glee in his voice as he entered the main office at the Colorado Springs Police Headquarters.

"Meaning?" snapped Pete Shanahan back at him. Buddies they may nearly have been a couple of weeks before, but he had no intention of forgiving the older officer for his part in Sam's humiliation of him that fateful night. The week's hectic activities of assisting the general public in appalling storms and the extra patrols watching for opportunist criminals in the wake of the severe weather damage had temporarily dimmed his memory, but not by much.

"Meaning you can arrest the perp who blacked your eye, of course!" laughed Freddie. "You know, the one you described as 'some kind of martial arts expert' in this very office a day later? Well, she's in with the Captain now." He stood back to see how Pete took the news of his ex arriving unexpectedly. He couldn't help looking at the gold and blue colour traces around his left eye, now almost invisible compared to the vivid marks of a week ago.

Pete didn't disappoint in his reaction. Surprise, shock, numbness. "What's she doing?" he started to say in a squeaky voice, before clearing his throat and repeating the words in a more normal tone.

"Search me." replied Marquette. "Probably come to accuse you of blackmail!"

Pete looked crestfallen, and Freddie relented. "I can't say, Pete. She arrived in a Marine Corps Humvee. It's parked out front now with a guy standing by it that you wouldn't argue with even if he wasn't packing an assault rifle. And if I'm not mistaken, that kid you asked my son to send your photos to is with him in the car."

"What?" Pete exclaimed. "Cass Fraiser? What the hell's going on here?"

His desk telephone gave him the answer moments later when his Captain's invitation to 'move his ass' left no room for other priorities. He walked swiftly down the corridor and rapped twice on his CO's door before entering. His first sight was of his ex-fiancee in camouflage BDU's looking emotionlessly at him. His eyes took in her matching cap clutched in her left hand and the holstered pistol at her waist. He had forgotten how she looked without makeup, and his thoughts flashed back to the first time he had seen her like that, a few weeks after he had 'moved in' with her.

Police Captain Orlovski was not in the best of moods. He brandished a piece of paper at the new arrival and practically snarled at him.

"Shanahan, God knows why, but you're wanted by the military!" He glanced over at Sam and continued in the same harsh tone, "If they think that sending one of your girlfriends over here would help soften me up…."

Sam's icy glare and Pete's wince made the Captain of Detectives realise for the first time that perhaps he wasn't dealing with Sam as an errand girl or a personal friend of his detective, and he changed his tone slightly.

"Look, so maybe Colorado hasn't been affected like other states, but I got orders to deploy all available resources to places that have been hit harder to help out. I can't spare anyone."

"Captain, this is Colonel Samantha Carter. She's a high-ranking officer at The Mountain. I'm sure this isn't anything trivial." Pete explained. "I'm well-acquainted with the work that goes on in…. NORAD," he stuttered, "and if they want me for something, then it'll be because I'm specially qualified. Or some such."

The Captain caught Sam's eye-roll as Pete bumbled on. He cast one more glance at the document in his hand, and checked once again the phrase 'acting on behalf of the US Government' and sighed.

"Take him, he's yours."

Pete beamed in response.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sam!" he said to her back as she walked ahead of him out of the Precinct House. "I'm glad I got the chance to work with you again." She didn't stop her rapid walk to the waiting Marine escort, even though he blustered, "Look, I'm sorry about last week. It's just that….."

"Can it, Pete!" she replied. "If it were up to me, you'd not have appeared on the lists at all. But everyone who knows about 'certain aspects' of the work we do is being called up."

"Then what's Cass Fraiser doing here?" he retorted before the thought struck him. "You mean, she knows too? How come, Sam? She's just a kid. I know her mom worked at the SGC, but why would she be told? You can't trust teenagers to keep quiet about things like these."

"Not only teenagers, it seems." replied Sam icily. "Remember where you are."

As they approached the vehicle, Corporal Stevens checked that the safety catch on his weapon was on and secured the rifle in the Humvee, getting into the driver's seat. Cassie got out of the back door and looked sulkily at the pair approaching. She made to move to the front passenger door and muttered "So you can ride in the back with your boyfriend.", but was surprised at Sam's tough, no-nonsense reply.

"Get back in the rear seat and stay there." she barked. Turning to Pete, she added, "You can join her." They both complied without a word as Sam got in the front and thanked the Corporal for waiting.

It was just as well that the rear seats were divided by the central tunnel of the rough terrain vehicle. The interior noise level even on the streets was high enough so that neither passenger could communicate with raised voices, so they sat in wordless discomfort.

After a few minutes Sam turned back from the front passenger seat and said loudly, "We're stopping at your apartment so that you can collect your clothes and personal effects. Take what's essential and be prepared for a prolonged absence." She added nothing further and Pete's curiosity had risen to the point where he could temporarily forget their personal circumstances. He could not deny the thrill of getting into the SGC again to see the whole operation this time. He might even get to see the 'you-know-what'.

Cassie was quiet because she rightly associated an enforced visit to the SGC with some of the evils that she knew lurked throughout the Universe. Sam had not spoken to her since the night that she had asked her to send the photographs, until today's surprise visit to her college in Denver. She still thought that Sam had in some way gone back to betraying Jack, and was not about to forgive and forget. Then, the news of her 'call-up' to the SGC, the hasty packing and the arduous drive back to Colorado through heavy showers to collect the one person she least wanted to meet again. Sam had made no attempts to talk to her about what lay ahead, and because of that, she was getting worried as they neared their destination.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

General Landry looked harassed as he greeted the newly-arrived conscripts, who had been mixed in the same meeting room as the French and British delegations, the latter having survived fourteen-hours of turbulence in their flights from their homelands and been given only an hour's rest. Those adults with young children were doing their best to calm their fears and discomfort, but succeeding in only a few cases.

The General was not going to tell them about his increasingly fraught conversations with the Russian and Chinese senior officers, all of whom were demanding after only a day or two in the SGC that more of their countrymen be flown in immediately to take up an increased share of authority and responsibility at the off-world sites.

He began falteringly, his tiredness probably making him forget that some of his audience did not understand colloquial American English.

"Welcome to Stargate Command, ladies and gentlemen. This will be a brief transitional experience for you. You have been selected by your respective governments to spearhead a possible rescue mission for mankind."

"Qu'est ce qu'il dit, maman?" asked a child beside Cassie. "Ou sommes nous? Pourquoi il n'y a pas de fenetres dans ces chambres?"

The child's parents shushed her as they did not exactly know themselves where they were, or why the rooms had no windows. The girl reluctantly kept quiet while the grown-ups strained to follow the General's words. Landry went on to explain that they would soon be setting up their homes in new quarters on other worlds and how they would get there.

When the phrase "it's inadvisable to approach gate travel with negative emotions as this is causal to kinetically-induced negative after-effects" spilled from Landry's lips against a background of not-so-subdued audience chatter from both the French, whose dictionaries did not cover the full meanings of those words, and the British, several of whom were trying to re-arrange the words into a well-known phrase or saying, Cassie could stand it no longer. She had realised why they were all here and how she could contribute.

She stood up and said in a loud voice, "General! You are losing your audience!" She turned to Sam, whom she had seen standing at the side of the room. "Aunt Sam! Let me tell them, please!"

Sam looked towards the General, who shrugged and announced, "Be my guest, young lady." Cassie made her way to the front and stood on the dais.

"Hello ladies, gentlemen and children. I am Cassie Fraiser. Bonjour mesdames, messieurs et enfants. Je suis Cassie Fraiser." The audience sighed in relief.

"You have come here to travel by the Stargate to other worlds, where you will find new homes. Vous etes arrivees ici pour voyager par le 'Stargate' aux autre mondes, ou se trouve des nouveaux maisons." Gasps and 'oohs' were a gratifying response, and she continued more confidently.

"I came to this world nine years ago from the planet Hanka, and have lived here in Colorado among new friends ever since. Je suis arrive dans ce monde il y a neuf ans, et depuis j'ai habite Colorado avec des nouveax amis."

"Do not worry. Gate travel can make you feel sick for a short while after you arrive. Ne vous inquietez pas. Le voyage par Stargate peut vous donner un peu de maladie de voyage pendant quelques instants après l'arrivee."

She glanced round at General Landry, who gave her a smile and nod of encouragement. "Thank you. I will answer any questions as best I can after this meeting. Merci. Je repondrai aux questions le mieux que possible apres ce reunion."

The audience applauded Cassie loudly as she resumed her seat, smiling at Sam who returned the gesture. Now she knew exactly why she was needed at the SGC, and decided that personal issues had to be put aside for the time being. The children of new arrivals would need special attention, and she was the best-qualified person in the world for giving this. She noticed Pete Shanahan staring at her, and the mischievous thought entered her mind that he was probably wondering if all Sam's friends and acquaintances were aliens, and stored the fact for future use in the revenge department.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's note 1- I'm sorry, but I can't update as quickly as some of you would like. Please bear with me.

Author's note 2 - Sandy!


	6. Calm

Chapter 6 – Calm

"Sam!" called Pete Shanahan quietly, hanging back at the end of the introductory meeting until she came near. "Surely you could have told me that Cassandra was one of them!"

He noticed interrogative way she raised one eyebrow in response, just like her friend Murray did, but the sharpness to her facial expression warned him that she hadn't liked his question, and he strove to move on as quickly as possible. "Not that it matters, of course." he bumbled. "Does all this mean we're going to get to work together?"

"Yes and no, Pete." she replied evenly. "Yes: we'll be working for the same organisation. Everyone who's come into close contact with our work at the SGC is being called in, as soon as we can get them here." She kept a calm expression when his boyish grin fleetingly appeared at her use of the phrase 'close contact'. "You'll learn more about it when you follow the sergeant over there with that group of people."

"But what did you mean, yes _and_ no?"

"We'll be several hundred light years apart."

His shock was profound – so much so that he barely noticed Cassie walking past with one of the French members of the audience.

"You know, you speak our language very well, Mademoiselle Fraiser." he was saying, to her obvious delight. "Just a little work on the grammar and it will be parfait!"

"You mean the English or the French?" laughed Cassie. "Yeah, the grammar's a real pain in the mik'ta." she agreed, smiling.

"Quoi?"

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Two weeks later, the worst of the storms had died down and communications had been restored to a degree but were still limited. Personal messages over the military network were strictly rationed, and therefore Sam treasured the shortest of e-mails that she had received from Jack on the terminal in her lab. 'Home soon' were the words giving her hopes and expectations sufficient to carry her through arduous days of round-the-clock systems maintenance and repairs carried out hurriedly during intervals in the incessant traffic through the Earth Stargate and the three off-world bases.

And what variety there was leaving Earth! Building materials, nervous new recruits, livestock in crates, livestock on the hoof, filing cabinets ("filing cabinets?", Sam and Sergeant Siler had both said in amazement as the procession of handlers passed by), seeds and fertilisers in bags and semi-bulk containers, field rations, frozen food, water-treatment chemicals, tankers of fuel, trucks, Jeeps, motor cycles and bicycles, light aircraft in broken-down kit form, to be re-assembled on other planets. The least popular job in The Mountain became cleaning up after the herds of cattle had passed out of the large elevators and through the passages to the Gate Room. The makeshift notice attached to the blast doors saying 'Welcome to Shit Creek' was quickly taken down when General Landry let it be known that he was not amused.

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There is no such person as a universally capable and adept leader. We all have strengths and weaknesses: nevertheless it is a fact of life that promotion as a result of success or competence in one field often directs people into other roles where their unique background, experience or just plain character bring them into situations they cannot master.

Jack O'Neill knew The Peter Principle of course, and was also enough of a realist to recognise that it applied to him in his present circumstances. Battlefield and tactical expertise counted for little in committee meetings with lifelong staffers and ambitious politicians. Plus, he was in a job where he needed staunch, powerful allies, and those he lacked in numbers sufficient to make a difference. There was only one George Hammond and one Paul Davies to help him through the minefield of Washington politics, and collectively it was nowhere near enough. In a time of crisis – possibly the greatest one that the Earth had ever faced – the concept of different departments pulling together was as alien to the career politicians and bureaucrats as in normal times. There were only opportunities for advancement of one's policies, and hence oneself, against supposedly 'weak' opponents who didn't know the political ropes as well as they did.

All but a few on The Hill had convinced themselves that the global near-disaster was a one-off that was unlikely to repeat itself. 'Back to Business' ran more than one newspaper headline, and with world economies showing the first signs of stabilisation and recovery, a vociferous opponent to the Oversight Committee's budget reduction plans had been the last person they wanted on their doorstep, and Jack definitely lacked the network of establishment allies to resist their calls for his return to a position 'more befitting his military mind and experience'. His reign as Head of Homeworld Security, a title he could never sport in public anyway, was coming to an end.

The man himself was characteristically tight-lipped as ever: the nearest Jack came to offering an explanation or opinion was the epithet "Assholes!" muttered through almost-closed lips and audible only to those nearest to him at the time.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was taken utterly by surprise when a familiar-looking blonde walked into the VIP area. The woman looked nervously around, but with an air of open curiosity, while her bespectacled male companion seemed altogether more uncertain of himself. The two women's eyes met and recognition flowed: the occasion had been when Sam was a Captain not long at the SGC and Sara O'Neill merely separated from her husband, not yet divorced. Sam recalled how she had had to comfort the frightened woman after witnessing the apparition of their dead son in the hospital where an ersatz Jack was decaying back to the crystalline life-form whence he came.

They smiled nervously at each other, and it was Sara who walked forward with an outstretched hand.

"You're Colonel Carter." she said warmly, having taken in Sam's insignia. "Congratulations on your promotions. Two in six years is quite an achievement."

"Thank you, Mrs….. I'm sorry, I don't know how to address you, er, Mrs. O'Neill."

"Oh, I'm Mrs. Sara Carpenter now." she replied. "That's my husband Clark talking with your sergeant and wondering what the heck we're getting into." She looked closely at Sam. "Are you still working with Jack?"

The initial tingling sensation when an Asgard transportation beam drops onto its unsuspecting victim was nothing compared to the surge of electricity coursing through Sam at that moment. Sara read the unspoken question and laughed gently.

"Jack contacted me three days ago to meet the two of us." she continued in a quiet voice. "He couldn't come in the end and sent a young officer who explained that this was highly secret and was something to do with your Stargate. That got my attention right enough, but I didn't agree to come until I got him to update me about what Jack is doing now. All he could tell me was that he's working at The Pentagon. These last few years I think I'm the only confidante he's had. The last time I'd seen him he was devastated about someone he was getting close to becoming engaged to someone else. It was like pulling teeth as usual, but he eventually told me that he felt like seeing out his time in his current job and then disappearing."

"Oh! I….. We…. Jack, I mean The General never….You know." Sam stammered.

Sara looked askance at her and Sam couldn't help avoiding eye contact for a brief moment, but it was enough for the older woman to draw a conclusion, and a remarkably accurate one at that.

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Pete Shanahan returned unexpectedly from the Beta Site a few days later with a batch of severely homesick families who felt that the dangers of extinction on Earth were to be preferred to the basic living conditions on their new world. As the newly-appointed Civilian Law Enforcement Officer for the whole planet, he had done a professional job in getting to know the inhabitants of the base and outlying areas. But the numbers of this 'advance party' were still reasonably low, and there was no crime to speak of. He was bored.

He was also determined to meet up with Sam again, to play a real low-key approach this time, but enough to do a better job of appearing on her personal event horizon. That was an expression he'd come to know the true meaning of!

He cleared the SGC medical screening in the early evening by the local clocks, just in time to learn that Sam had left a few minutes previously. He rushed for the elevator and made his way through various check points to the exterior North Portal Gate.

"You just missed her, bud." said the guard nonchalantly. "She went to pick up some VIP at Peterson Field."

"Damn! That's where I was headed too!" Pete lied. He looked crestfallen.

The guard picked up on his expression, and added helpfully, "If you hurry, that bus is taking those people there. She might still be hanging around if you're lucky."

Pete looked across and saw some of the families he had travelled with through the Stargate. "Thanks!" he cried over his shoulder in his sprint to the vehicle. He forced himself to be calm as the bus sedately negotiated the winding road down from the mountain. He knew that Sam relished driving at speed round twisting roads, and hoped that the traffic and poor weather conditions would slow her sufficiently so that he might make his planned rendezvous at the airport. If not, he would have to go to her house and wait for her arrival or knock on her door, where the odds of being invited in were not so good. A supposedly chance contact in a public place was the surer way of getting to speak to her.

He made sure that he was first off the bus when it pulled up in front of the small, brightly-illuminated terminal building, and almost ran into the hall. He sighed with relief when her unmistakable blond hair atop her blue denim jacket and jeans was visible by the arrivals door, and he paused to steady himself to make it seem as though his presence was casual and coincidental, just like he had done a few weeks previously.

But he was still some thirty yards from his target when a tall Air Force officer walked through the door, carrying a briefcase and towing a large wheeled hold-all behind him. He watched in shock and horror as Sam ran forward to throw her arms round the guy's neck, the man's automatic reaction being to let go of his baggage just seconds later to return the embrace. When she stopped kissing him, she pressed her face into his neck while he cradled the back of her head with his left hand, and the pair rocked back and forth for a few moments, holding tightly to each other. They leaned back slightly and exchanged the broadest grins: Sam was clearly ecstatic and there was no mistaking the delight in General O'Neill's face.

Shanahan quickly dived behind a pillar, moving slowly round it to stay out of sight as the oblivious couple collected the bags and walked out of the terminal hall towards the darkness hiding the car park, laughing at some private joke. His situation suddenly struck home: he no longer had a place in her life. To add to that discomfort, he had nowhere to stay. After a forlorn twenty minutes of misery, he dejectedly walked to the taxi rank in the sudden downpour and lifted the phone to call for a cab ride back to the SGC.

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Although it was past 3:00 am, Sam was still awake, not able to look away from the sleeping form next to her. Moonlight flooded through the window from time to time, the clouds scudding across the skies in the blustery wind, revealing the outline of Jack's jaw and his short, spiky silver hair sticking out at odd angles. Without thinking, she reached up and gently stroked his head, resulting in his eyes springing open instantly. He looked round and caught the sparkle in her eyes before the moonlight disappeared again.

"Sorry!" she whispered ingenuously.

He sighed. "Fine lover I turn out to be, falling asleep on our first night."

She caressed his head again and he reached up to take her wrist in his fingers, moving her palm to his lips.

"Jack, if you ask me if I'm sure about this one more time, I'll kick you out of bed." she laughed. She moved nearer and rested her head on his shoulder. "You are the love of my life, Jonathan O'Neill. I have never felt so good about anyone or anything."

There was a deep silence and Sam felt him tense up.

"Sam, you know you told me to pick a date last time we were together?"

Her state of tension suddenly matched his.

"Yes?" she squeaked.

He willed himself to carry on. "I was wondering if next week might do. Only if you're sure, of c……."

She extricated her hand from his grasp and moved suddenly to tweak a few hairs from his chest, resulting in a sharp gasp from him.

"Warned ya!" she cried, laughing again. She reached up and turned his head towards hers. "Ask me properly."

He swallowed and did not find it easy to utter the words. "Sam, will you marry me?" finally emerged.

"Only if you're sure, Jack."

"How can you ask me that?"

"Touché!"

She took pity as a result of his suddenly worried expression. "Yes, Jack. I'd marry you tomorrow if that's what we could do. But next week will be fine, or whenever."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The cell phone at their bedside rang repeatedly at 04:45 hours until Jack groggily answered it, with Sam looking blearily across at him.

"General O'Neill, Sir. We have a situation here at The Mountain." said the caller.

"How serious?" asked Jack.

"Not sure, Sir. There's around forty busloads of Chinese citizens queuing on the approach road to the North Portal. Their spokesman is asking for you personally. They want access for 'emigration', as they keep putting it. What should we do? General Landry is 'out of the country' talking to their delegation on one of our 'foreign' bases."

Jack sighed. "Hold everything until I get there." he mumbled. "Got that?" He closed the phone and dropped it on the floor.

"What's happening?" asked Sam.

"It's starting. "Jack said as he hauled himself to his feet. "Word's getting around and sun storm or no sun storm, some people want out. The first lot's arrived. How's your Mandarin?"

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End file.
